


Soldier, Ask Not

by Poplitealqueen



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, clone feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/pseuds/Poplitealqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Order 66, Captain Rex checks himself into a Kaminoan Medical Facility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier, Ask Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a spur-of-moment upload. Ever since they showed up in Rebels, I've wondered how Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor ended up together. This fic'll focus on that. Might be a bit before I add to it; not sure if I even _will_. Guess it just depends on the position of the celestial bodies and what I happen to eat for lunch next Tuesday.
> 
> If and when I do update, the chapters will definitely be longer. Just kinda testing the waters with this one.
> 
> Watch as I try to be all philosophical. OooooOOOOOOh.
> 
> -Miss Pop

The Kaminoans have a legend, a story that they've told his brothers. That they tell them all.  
  
It speaks of a man on a boat in the water. Sometimes, it's a woman. Sometimes, neither at all. It all depends on who you hear it from.  
  
But the constant is that there is always someone in the boat on the water. Alone.  
  
And the Kaminoans always ask them why that someone is there.  
  
Everything on Kamino, from the way you eat to the way you listen, is a test. From the moment you're out of the tube, nothing but a gauge to see what role you're meant to fill. The story is no different.  
  
The clever ones will say the man is probably dead, the boat his floating casket.  
  
The cowardly ones will say it's because he is running away from something.  
  
The strong will say it's because he is heading toward a great battle, one he must fight alone.  
  
Sarai tells Rex he's the only one to ever ask, "Where did his brothers go?"  


~*~

  
Sarai Nu is the Kaminoan nurse on duty when Rex checks himself into the Medical Facility. He's lucky he already knows her, from back from before he was even a Shiny, because he doesn't think he could handle any intensive prying at the moment.  
  
She bobs her small head down, long fingers gently tilting his chin up. She smiles with familiarity at him.  
  
"CT-7567," she says, in a voice like chimes tapping together a breeze. "What is wrong?"  
  
Rex isn't sure how to answer. He doesn't quite know himself. Since Order 66, since his battalion raided the Jedi Temple, he really hasn't known a lot of things.  
  
He makes a vague gesture with his hands. What can he say? He can't go back, not yet, but he's a soldier. It's his duty to. It's what he's _for_. But he can't stand the thought of clean up at the Jedi Temple. His stomach roils at the idea, a feeling he's unfamiliar with. Rex has never been hesitant.  
  
He hopes he's not defective, but he can't voice that worry. Even wondering is a cause for concern, and he's happy he's still coherent enough to know that.  
  
Sarai continues to watch him with intense, shining grey - white irises, and he finally sighs, scratching at the back of his neck.  
  
"My head," he decides. "S'been feeling funny." It isn't a complete lie. This _is_ all in his head, after all.  
  
Sarai blinks at him slowly before straightening up. She glides her fingers over the crown of his head before bringing it down to take his hand in hers.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
It's a thing all the Kaminoan nursemaids do. It doesn't matter to her that he's seen death and battle a thousand times over. To her, he's still a child, and it's normal to hold a child's hand.  
  
The thought is comforting, in its own odd way.  
  
He grasps the thing hand back, and she leads him down the pearly white corridor

**Author's Note:**

> Main title and chapter titles from the poem, _'Hymn of the Friendlies'_ by Gordon R. Dickson.


End file.
